SINsane in Ohio
by Vesica
Summary: A Buffyverse homage to Sin City. Spoilers for the filmbooks. Because Fangirls and boys come in all sizes and ages…even in the Buffyverse.


**Title:** SIN-sane in Ohio  
**Author: **Vesica  
**Fandom:** BtVS and Sin City  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Oh, how I wish they were...  
**Warnings:** Slight spoilers for Sin City. Mostly, you won't find it as funny if you haven't read the books or seen the film.  
**Summary:** Fangirls and boys come in all sizes and ages…even in the Buffyverse.  
**Author's Note:** Huge props to ActionHerofor being the best geek friend a girl could have and for inspiring the title. Also, a nod to houses who started my Muse plotting with a lovely icon of Gail and some big guns with the text "Us Helpless Little Girls".

Also, Gwen is my own invention. I figure in two or three years, at least one new Slayer would have shown up and I needed a very young Slayer. Also, if the merest hint of Faith/Giles makes you ill – you might not want to read this. This is me, after all.

* * *

She shivered, the bitter wind of the Cleveland night cutting right through her skimpy rags. She was dressed to thrill, black leather ankle boots with heels so thin she tottered every other step and a wisp of top barely covering her firm little breasts. She strutted and bounced, on the prowl for whatever money there was to be made.

But there were holes in the facade. Her fishnets were split by a jagged run that hugged the inviting curve of one thigh and raced up and out of sight beneath her suggestion of a skirt. Her make-up was thick, hastily slapped on and doing nothing to hide the circles under her eyes. She looked like a tinker's junk box, draped in more jewelry than even the cheapest two bit whore would wear.

Everything about her said she was a forgotten child, in no one's thoughts as the night passed, no one waiting up for her with a porch light on. She was her own girl, in all the bad ways and none of the good.

Still, she had a smile for the men she passed – a bright hopeful smile that faded quickly at the indifference in their stares.

The crowds on the streets thinned and soon there was no one to beguile with her youthful bounce.

She walked quickly through the empty streets, her head high and cheap bangles jingling around her wrists in time with her strides. Only the look in her eyes, and her frequent glances over her shoulder, belied her fear.

Her nervousness was a more intoxicating perfume than her smiles or clumsy attempts at sensuality. Her fear, laced with a hint of purity strangely at odds with her obvious profession, was a deep throaty call in the cold night air.

She turned off the main road into an alley, oblivious to the figures that moved along behind her.

Seven men, seven hungry men, followed - all drawn to the siren song of her vulnerability.

One look at her said she'd go down like an ice cold beer on a muggy summer day and they all wanted a drink.

They tailed her down the alley, slinking from one pool of shadow to the next until she was well beyond sight of the street and the light of the street lamps, far from any possible help.

She didn't seem to hear a thing, until one of them growled.

She spun around, gasping at their yellowed eyes and wrinkled brows.

They smiled, sure of the kill, savoring the race of her heart, the tears shining in her eyes.

She studied the ground, peeking at the men through her lashes with an almost coy smile. Her voice was quiet, almost playful, but with a firm thread of steel in her tone.

"Oh sugar, you just gone and done the dumbest thing in your whole life."

She had the sweetest hint of a Southern drawl and she let the words fall from her lips like a sigh.

They couldn't have asked for a most heartbreakingly fragile and gentle girl to tear open. They could almost taste her already.

And then she laughed – a sound totally devoid of all the fear and innocence with which she had so carefully cloaked herself.

Her pursuers hesitated, trying to break through the fog of their lust long enough to wrap their heads around her sudden transformation.

She reached down to pull a stake from her boot.

Stake in hand, she meet them with a gaze every bit as hungry as their own.

"Afterlife, Gwen. I think it would be afterlife."

They turned towards the voice and found their way out blocked by a man in a trench coat and oddly clean red Converse sneakers. The woman at his side was in a black leather cat suit so tight it was shocking she could breathe. Both were armed with crossbows, sharpened stakes notched and at ready, pointed at them.

They shared a look that said they were going to enjoy this part, raised the bows and fired. One of the would-be attackers fell, impaled and turning to dust before his body reached the ground. The man hadn't aimed so well, his bolt catching one of the vampires in the leg.

"Nice shot," the woman teased as he reloaded.

He glared at her, firing the fresh bolt straight at the maimed vamp's heart. "Better?" he asked as the vamp exploded into dust.

From the shadows all around, young women emerged, each clutching a deadly weapon or three.

One, armed with a wicked looking axe, grinned. "Don't worry. It's just us helpless little girls."

The leader whirled on his prey. "Bitch, you trapped us! Too bad they can't get to me before…"

He reached out to grab the little cunt and, instead, found himself staring at his hand, lying pale and motionless on the grubby concrete.

A second flurry of blades relieved him of his other hand and he could only gape at the dark haired woman standing between him and what had looked to be an easy meal.

"Think again, bucko." He wasn't sure what was more frightening – her feral smile or the wickedly gleaming katanas in her hands.

"Let me do it, Faith. Please?"

"Sure thing. Just let me set him up for you and-" She left her sentence hanging as she kicked his feet out from under him.

He flailed but his stumps were useless in stopping his fall. He had barely registered the crack of his skull meeting the street before the baby whore was on top of him, wearing a serene, angelic smile as she sank the stake into his heart.

Gwen wasn't ready for the cloud of ash rushing into her lungs.

Faith hauled the coughing young Slayer to her feet. "And that's why we told you to hold your breath."

The coughing continued. Faith absently thumped Gwen on the back surveying the now quiet alley.

The vampires were dusted – every last one of them.

The man in the trench coat reached out, drawing the woman in leather tightly to his side. "Nice work, ladies. Looks like you won't be having your war after all."

The woman squirmed in his tight grip. "Xander, if you try to stick your tongue down my throat again, I **will **hurt you. And THEN I'll tell Willow."

He hastily released her. "Sorry, got kinda into it there."

The young women were brushing themselves off, chattering happily.

"That was awesome!"

"Faith – that was so cool how you came flying off the fire escape. You were like Batman or something…"

"You were so brave, Gwen, and your first slaying! Aren't you jazzed?"

"Yeah, a little. That was just – wow."

"Hey Rona, nice quoting there. Just us 'helpless little girls'. Yeah, right!"

A gentleman stepped out of the shadows, frowning as he handed Gwen a heavy coat. She gratefully slipped it on, rubbing her arms trying to regain feeling.

Faith smiled. "Now you see?"

"Why it was necessary for Gwen to risk hypothermia or endanger herself by playing the bait?" His frown deepened. "Or why she had to try and…and "work" every man she passed? Frankly – No. I don't think it's at all appropriate for young Slayer in training to play at prostitution or go out barely dressed or-" He broke off, at a loss for words to describe his shock.

Faith patted the young girl's shoulder, "Nice job, Gwen. I thought Giles here was going to blow a gasket when you threw that saucy little wink at that stooge in the shiny suit."

"I am so glad I could amuse you all, but the fact remains that this little game of yours endangered Gwen and the rest of the young ladies entrusted to my care."

"_Giles_, we explained all this. Besides – it worked." Kennedy rolled her eyes, tugging at her cat suit. "Though in hindsight, I should have been Miho. This damn thing keeps giving me a wedgie."

Faith snorted, carefully sliding her blades into the sheaths crisscrossed behind her back. "Yeah, right. Dream on. These beauties are all mine."

"Coulda been worse. We could have dressed you just like Gail," Vi offered. "Of course, Willow wouldn't have let you out of the house."

"Or the bedroom," Dawn mumbled. "Like we didn't all see the looks she was giving you in that cat suit."

"Don't start. YOU shouldn't even be here. We agreed that you would stay out of the front line. You're not a Slayer and you could have gotten yourself hurt." Kennedy leveled a harsh glare at Dawn.

Dawn glared right back, holding a duffel bag open for the other girl's weapons. "Whatever. You aren't my boss. You're a Slayer and I'm almost a Watcher. That makes us equal."

"Xander _is_ a Watcher and a much better fighter than you. He has more experience and he knows his limits. Did you see him up close and personal with these vamps?"

"What was I supposed to do? Just stand there and wait for one of them to eat one of the girls?"

"Girls! Dawn, I'm only three months younger than you."

"Shut it, Rona. That's not the point."

"Well, I think it is. Just because you're almost a Watcher -"

"NO, the point is that Dawn should have stayed back like Xander."

"Enough," Giles held up a hand and the bickering ceased. "You've explained nothing, but I give up. As long as you are all patrolling together, I don't really care why you needed your stipends early or why you insist on wearing those ridiculous outfits or trying to get arrested by the 'vice squad'."

"Thanks for that hearty approval," Dawn grumbled. "We're not stupid, you know. There was always one of us close enough to Gwen to step in if things got out of hand. We took out seven vamps in a little more than six minutes. I'd call that good."

Dawn stuffed her stake into the duffle bag at her side and the others took it as their cue to pack up for the night. She struggled to heft a duffel onto each shoulder, still too miffed to ask for help.

Giles sighed. They had at least thought this through. They had carefully explained their plans and back up plans before they had set out on patrol. He supposed there was really no stopping them.

He reached over and took what looked to be the heavier of the two bags from Dawn.

"Time to head home. You were right, Dawn - Good patrolling tonight. Fifteen vampires in one night and not a single injury or close call is excellent."

"Home? No way!" Xander grinned at Faith. "Hey, I think Litchfield has an 11:45. Wanna go see it again?"

Giles was surrounded by a chorus of cheers.

"No, I really think we should be heading home. Tomorrow looks to be another busy…"

"Come on. We can leave this stuff where we had it hidden." Dawn gently nudged Giles. "Besides, you can see what we all keep talking about."

Vi smiled, "We'll even pay your way, Mr. Giles. Please?"

With a sigh, Giles gave in. "Fine. Let's see this film you all have paid to see – what, six times in the last two weeks?"

Xander jumped in. "Seven, actually. Faith and I went twice on Saturday."

Kennedy moved to walk next to Faith. "By tomorrow, we'll be calling him Hartigan. And that means, I get to Miho." She reached out to stroke the kitanas.

Faith jerked away. "Yeah, how do you figure?"

The other woman just smiled, "Gee, _Nancy_. I don't know."

Faith spluttered, turning her glare on Xander, who simply snickered. Thankfully, Giles looked oblivious.

"Bitch," Faith hissed at Kennedy.

Kennedy's smile widened, "Whatever you say, Nancy."

The rest of the trip the theater was a sprint, with Faith trying to stay as far from Kennedy as possible and the rest of the group struggling to keep up as they pretended not to notice the quarrel. They pointedly ignored Giles question "Who's Hartigan?" and hurried on towards the theater.

After the fifth time Kennedy called her Nancy, Faith moved to corner Xander. "What the hell did you tell her?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. Everyone knows Faith. You're not great at the subtle."

"Coming from you?" Faith sighed. "Great. Just fucking great. I'm being teased by the Brat, Bitch Slayer of Doom and her squad of Baby Slayerettes. I'm in hell."

They reached the theater and queued for tickets. By now, Faith didn't even have to pretend to be the youngest Slayer's older sister to get them in. The teenager in the ticket booth just grinned. "You all again? The 11:45?"

Two and half hours later, they poured out onto the street, the girls parroting their favorite lines and striking poses.

"That was the most appalling thing I have ever seen."

"Aw, come on. You weren't exactly closing your eyes," Xander elbowed Giles. "I saw you smile once or twice. I think you might even have laughed."

"I did no such thing."

Xander shrugged and moved to join the Slayers quoting the battle in Old Town – again.

Faith hung behind, strolling beside Giles. "Sorry. We probably shouldn't have inflicted that on you."

Giles 'hmm'ed but said nothing else as they neared the alley where they had hidden their arsenal. He hung back, pausing under a street lamp in a pool of sickly yellow light.

"Faith?"

"Yeah?"

"Why does Kennedy keep calling you Nancy?"

Faith's eyes widened for a moment, before she shrugged noncommittally. "Who knows? Kennedy's a little odd, you know. I think she was dropped on her head as a child. Or one too many rounds with the vamps – makes 'em a little nutso…"

Looking anywhere but at him, she quickly hurried on to a new topic. "Hey – watching all that ass-kicking has me antsy. I think I'm gonna do another quick sweep before heading in."

"Are you sure you should go by yourself? Why don't you-"

Faith waved off his concern. "Nah, I'll be fine. See you all back at the ranch." And with that, she left, walking quickly and disappearing into the dark.

Giles watched her go, smiling. "Hartigan, am I?"

He knew about Faith's crush – everyone knew. It was flattering really. Flattering, he kept telling himself, and typical that a young woman like Faith would feel attached to any man who respected and helped her. Nothing in it, nothing at all. And if he felt any disappointment at his certainty that it was just a short-lived schoolgirl crush, he doused the thought quickly and returned to his earlier musings.

"Hartigan had one thing right. 'A young girl lives. An old man dies' – it's the way it should be. How many more Slayers would have lived to see twenty if the Watcher's Council had thought that? How many could have been saved?"

Lost in his thoughts, he was startled when Dawn looped her arm through his. "Faith doing one more sweep? Figured she would."

Xander and Kennedy emerged followed by young Slayers growing quieter by the minute as the adrenaline gave way to exhaustion.

"Home?" Xander asked.

Giles nodded. "Home. Tomorrow's another day to fight."

He supposed it wasn't so wrong for them to want to be someone else for a few hours – to fight against men, cruel and disturbed men, but men rather than undead creatures. What harm did it do?

"And – I suppose – tomorrow is another day for the 'ladies' of Old Town to triumph."

**END.**


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